


T is for Torch

by coolbyrne



Series: The Alphabet Series [20]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: There are many words to describe him. (Companion piece to "S is for Sweet".) Married Slibbs
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Series: The Alphabet Series [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909126
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	T is for Torch

She had blurted out, "Solid", the first word that had come to mind when Faith had asked her to explain "the Agent Gibbs thing", and she was grateful that her daughter understood, even if it wasn't the adjective either one of them expected. But they both knew it meant something more, something dependable, something safe, and as Faith had said, if anyone deserved 'solid', it was her.

Now, of course, sitting alone with him on the couch, a file in her lap, her feet in his, and a book dropped to his chest, she could think of so many other things she could have said about him, though half of them Faith might not have believed if she could see him at that moment, head back against the couch, a soft snore escaping his parted lips. The other half probably weren't for public consumption. She slipped her glasses through her hair to the top of her head and let her eyes automatically go to his hands, attributing a good portion of those words to their talent. Shifting slightly and forcing her gaze upward (though it wasn't much of a chore- she loved looking at him), she watched the fireplace glow his profile bright. She thought how he was like that for her, like a flame that warmed her. Like a torch that guided her, shone light in all the dark angles and made her feel unafraid. 

There was a word she could use in public- _warm_. Though she had heard the story of how Palmer had talked his way into a hug and then nearly into the morgue by using the exact same description, she felt an abundance of sympathy for him- he wasn't wrong, he just had the unfortunate talent of saying the quiet words out loud. Gibbs _was_ warm. Warm in the way he loved people, warm in the way he held people. It was one reason she enjoyed curling up into him in bed, his heat like his beloved fireplace, like the wood in the basement whose warmth was always just under the surface by his hands.

Or maybe that was _her_ heat.

"You thinkin' about my hands again?"

His eyes didn't open as the cocky accusation rumbled over his lips.

She lifted the file, stretched forward and whacked him across the chest. "No, I was thinking about how I'm going to have to explain to the police how you choked on your own snore." She knew it was a lame cover but she didn't care, because he began massaging her feet. Her eyes drifted shut, but she let him know she was fully aware of his nefarious intent. "You just want to see _me_ snore on the couch."

He chuckled, and when her eyes opened, they met his. "Rather see you snorin' in our bed."

_Our bed_. God, he could be so damn soft for such a hard man.

With a small groan, she swung her feet to the floor and stood, then placed the book from his chest to the table and gingerly pulled him to his feet. He rewarded her with a kiss the second he was upright and she melted into his lips. It felt like the first time, every time, and she was never any less grateful for it.

"Put out the fire down here," she whispered along his bottom lip. "We'll start one upstairs."

Her playful come-on got her an eye roll, but he did as he was told, and she checked the doors before starting for the stairs. She was 3 up when the lights went out.

"Hey, give a girl some warning, would you?" she protested. "I could've broken my neck."

His voice came from right behind her, low and rough, like molasses over gravel. "I'll catch you." His delivery was dry, but the words held weight.

With the same balance of levity and honesty, she reached back for his hand and whispered, "My hero." 

She felt his smile against her neck. He wasn't one who needed praise or asked for flattery, but there was clearly something in the label that he liked. She leaned back into him and decided that of all the words she could use to describe him, she liked that one best, too.

…..

-end


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